Secret Conversations
by Shadowy Star
Summary: Sometimes you need a hint. Or two. SHxJW


**Secret Conversations**

by Shadowy Star

August 2008

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, etc. They belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and his estate. I do own this story. Characters not appearing or being mentioned in the original stories are likewise mine. Don't archive, translate or otherwise use the story without permission.

**A/N:** Sometimes you need a hint. Or two.

I just hope the readers of my Coldfire fics aren't going to kill me because I wrote this while I should be working on my stories for that one fandom instead. But I moved house – and rediscovered, while packing, those wonderful books at the attic where they've gathered dust over the last ten years. _Of course_, I did reread. And that's the result. Enjoy!

* * *

An anonymous hotel room – of course.

Unreadable gray eyes meet calm green ones.

"You wouldn't let me get away with this easily, would you?" The tone light, colored with sympathy. Dry humor behind it.

The masks are back in place like they were that day at a carnival so long ago when two circles have crossed, and they will not fall like they did the night after.

"It's not as difficult as you think." The tone light here, too, and warm with friendship. Knowledge behind it.

Both have got extraordinarily sharp minds which they use for the same goal. There can't be any misunderstandings between them. Nor would there be apologies.

"For you maybe." The gray eyes look away for a moment. Rare, an admission like that.

A simple deduction. A mathematic equation only one of them can solve. To the other the x is still a unknown. X standing for emotions in that case.

"I'm not the one waiting for you at the end of this road." Such a faint hint. In this case, no more needed.

Understanding dawns rapidly – and mercilessly. The gray eyes narrow slightly. "You know." A statement, this. There's no need to ask.

A smile dances in the green eyes. No need to confirm, either. Again, no misunderstandings. They both are very good at what they do.

"Until next time." Her plain cloak reveals a expensive gown as green as her eyes when she leaves the room. The door falls shut behind her without a sound.

The man doesn't move. Neither does he speak.

* * *

Another room – not so anonymous this time.

The green eyes take in everything – as usual analyzing, investigating, concluding. They see what no one else does – not even the one person most involved. They see a photograph made years ago, held dear above all else, see the expression one face of the two on it bears. They see a few objects, obviously presents received on past Christmases, held just as dear. To these eyes, nothing can be kept secret.

A smile appears in them as they meet a pair of brown ones.

Curiosity in the brown eyes – their circles never touched before. But they do now – perhaps with even more significance.

"Take what life brings and be thankful." A slight amusement in the warm voice.

"What?" Brown eyes widen in incomprehension.

"An old Norwegian saying." And the green eyes almost sparkle with mischief and implications. Such a blunt hint.

"I still don't understand…"

And therein lies the problem. But there's also still hope. And more.

The green eyes read deep and true.

"Look behind the mask." The last hint that can be given – and finally, after so many this evening, the last one needed.

For the brown eyes widen again, with understanding this time, and a breath is sharply taken. Confusion enters those eyes – followed by fear, followed by relief, followed by joy.

The question arising is clear even before spoken.

"How do you know?"

"Until next time." Her cloak reveals another expensive gown as she leaves. The door falls shut behind her with a soft 'click'.

The man remains silent for the long measure of time he needs to put it all together.

"Thank you," he finally says.

**Extra Notes:**

I leave it to your imagination who's playing matchmaker here. This was written as an opening scene for an original story of mine but it was kind too vague and so I removed it. When I stumbled over it again, I decided it –with some modifications– to be a good H/W story. Therefore I wrote the second part, modified the first one – and here it is. Oh, and I don't know if the saying I quoted really exists much less if it's Norwegian. Though I'm pretty sure to have heard something similar in meaning before. Well, if it didn't exist before, it does now. Quote it again!


End file.
